A few days ago, I came across an old photo of my husband, Eric, and my daughter, Emily, walking on the beach. The picture was taken years ago, yet somehow it feels like yesterday.

As parents, time has a funny way of doing that. We measure our lives in birthdays, graduations, vacations, holidays, and milestones, yet the moments themselves seem to slip through our fingers. One day, you’re holding a little hand as you walk along the shoreline, and the next, you’re wondering how that little hand grew up so quickly.

I found myself staring at the photo longer than I expected. At first, I was simply remembering that day—the sound of the waves, the warm sand beneath our feet, and the joy of watching our children explore the world with curiosity and wonder. The longer I looked, however, the more I noticed something deeper.

What struck me wasn’t that Eric was leading Emily, carrying her, or even teaching her something. What struck me was that they were simply walking together. Looking at that photo reminded me of something parenting and yoga have in common. Both require an incredible amount of faith.

As parents, we spend years trying to teach, guide, protect, and encourage. We want our children to discover the things that have brought meaning to our own lives. We want to spare them from the mistakes we made ourselves and help them avoid unnecessary pain. We see possibilities in them long before they see those possibilities in themselves.

I remember when my children were younger and how often I wanted to hand them the answers. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because I loved them. I wanted them to avoid the difficult lessons and take the shortest path to happiness. Of course, life doesn’t work that way. Each of us has to walk our own path, make our own discoveries, and learn certain lessons through experience rather than instruction.

The older I get, the more I realize that parenting isn’t about directing every step. It’s about being present for the journey. Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer is simply our presence while someone we love finds their own way.

Yoga has taught me much the same lesson.

I know firsthand how transformative yoga can be. It made me better than I was… And, I have watched it help people become stronger, calmer, healthier, more resilient, and more connected to themselves. I have seen it help people navigate grief, stress, illness, uncertainty, and major life transitions. Naturally, I want everyone I love to experience those benefits.

How many times have I thought, “If they would just come to yoga with me?” If they would just learn to breathe a little deeper, slow down a little more often, or discover what this practice has given me.

Much like parenting, yoga cannot be forced.

No matter how much we believe in it, someone else has to find their own way to the mat. They have to arrive when they are ready. They have to choose growth for themselves. We can invite, encourage, support, and model what the practice has brought into our lives, but we cannot do the work for someone else.

The best parents eventually learn that their job is not to choose the path. Their job is to remain available while their children discover it. The best yoga teachers learn much the same thing.

Looking back at that photo, I realize Eric wasn’t teaching Emily how to walk that day. She already knew how to do that. He was simply walking beside her, offering his presence, his support, and his steady hand.

Perhaps that is what love looks like at its best.

Not controlling the journey. Not carrying someone toward our destination. Not demanding they follow the path we would choose for them. Instead, love is being willing to walk beside someone for a while, offering guidance when asked for, support when needed, and trust when it is time for them to move forward on their own.

As we celebrate Father’s Day this weekend, I find myself grateful for all the fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, moms doing double duty, mentors, teachers, and father figures who have done exactly that. The ones who showed up consistently, offered quiet encouragement, and understood that guidance is not the same thing as control.

The ocean in that photograph stretches far beyond the horizon, reminding me that every life is a journey larger than we can see from where we stand. We may want to chart the course for those we love, but eventually we learn that their horizon is not ours to choose.

All we can do is walk beside them for as long as we are able, and sometimes that is more than enough.

Happy Father’s Day.